


The Truth

by UnknownSatellite84



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Barry Allen is the Reverse Flash, Betrayal, Break Up, Emotional Hurt, Eobard Thawne is the Flash, Future Fic, Lovers To Enemies, M/M, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 07:23:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14131041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnknownSatellite84/pseuds/UnknownSatellite84
Summary: Eobard stumbles upon the truth about his lover, Barry Allen.~Flash and Reverse Flash Role Reversal AU~





	The Truth

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wrote for the Role Reversal AU prompt where Eobard is the hero, the Flash and Barry is the villain, the Reverse Flash. Though, I kept it to where Eo is still from the future, Barry from the past. The idea was that Eo went to the past before and that's how Barry got the title of Reverse Flash for opposing him.  
> Anyway, this was kind of a quickie for me, so I apologize for any errors or confusion.

Eobard's fingers glowed with the powerful Speed Force lightning, and he sliced it over the Reverse Flash's ribcage. There was an ungodly scream, and his crimson-wreathed nemesis broke character and fled before the Flash could even think to pursue.

He blinked dazedly as sirens wailed in the distance. Rain dripped around him, and the road felt stunningly empty. Eobard slumped to his knees on the wet pavement, panting and cradling a throbbing arm against his chest.

* * *

_What is this?_

Eobard's fingers traced smooth fabric, fabric that was a dull gold. He pulled it from the depths of the closet, unfolded it to be greeted by the black and red lightning bolt symbol. It was pure luck he’d noticed the bit of yellow sticking out of the corner of the dark space.

He stared at it.

Why did Barry have something so closely resembling the attire of an evil criminal? He looked more carefully and saw the tear in the fabric, in the chest portion, right where the heart might be. Something stained the edges a disgusting shade of earth.

_Wait..._

_This...._ _This fabric is undoubtedly true friction proof material..._ _And this tear..._

_This is blood._

"Gideon?" He asked, voice a bit shaky. He held one palm over the outfit where the tear was. "Run a DNA test, please."

"Scanning... DNA markers confirm this blood belongs to Bartholomew Henry Allen."

Eobard's face drained of his own blood, his cold hands went limp. The fabric hit the floor. He stared at the various clothes hanging in the closet. 

"Eo?" A familiar voice called.

Eobard jerked into awareness and action. He used superspeed to refold the suit, to place it back just as it'd been, to close the doors, to speed into the hallway until he stood there, alone, wanting to run, to hide, to throw up, but trying to maintain his composure before his lover saw him.

How was this possible? Barry was bright and perfect and _great._ Men like the Reverse Flash were monsters, evil beasts, they had no heart, no warmth to give… Not like Barry did.

"Eobard."

Eobard looked up. At _him_. At the man who stood at the other end of the hall. The man who owned _that suit_ he’d held in his trembling hands. The cute, sweet, lovely angel that stared at him with the tentative, confused smile upon his face.

How could he actually be a demon?

"Everything alright?"

Eobard, slowly, smiled back. "Of course. Why wouldn't it be..." His voice sounded fake in his own ears. He hoped the other didn't notice.

"You look a little pale, is all."

"Just...a little...headache..." Eobard trailed off.

Barry approached him, and it took every ounce of willpower not to flinch back. Barry hugged him, like he always did, held onto him like he was the most important thing in the world, giving warmth and trust and love so openly, so readily.

How could he be the Reverse?

How? _How? How-_

There had to be a mistake.

"You want some warm tea?" Barry offered. “Or coffee?”

Eobard didn't answer. Instead, he slid his hands under Barry's shirt, was shocked when he felt the tension that ran through the other in response- a tension he'd never felt before. Barry had never shown rejection to his touch- Eobard's heart panicked and leapt into overdrive.

"Eo-"

Eobard moved his hands up before the other man could stop him, traced the rended flesh he already knew would be there, the jagged scar on Barry's torso. It probably looked awful if Eobard had the strength to actually lift the shirt to see it.

A shock of electricity leapt through Eobard's fingers, painfully intense. Barry sucked in a sharp breath, froze in place like a prey animal caught in violently bright lights.

Eobard felt even sicker. He gripped Barry's back and yanked him tight to his body, feeling his warmth as he buried his face into his lover's neck. "That's a large cut," he said robotically. "What happened?"

Barry relaxed. "An exercising accident. I slipped on the treadmill."

The lie was so empty, and Eobard felt equally empty.

"Please be more careful next time," he breathed.

"Of course. Anything for you, dear."

Eobard extricated himself from the hold. "I'll...be back..." He forced another smile. “Make whatever you wish.” He went to the bathroom and vomited in the toilet.　

* * *

The rain was gentle but not soothing as it glistened wetly on cold, white streets. The covered walkways glimmered, and there was a crushing lack of life in the air.

Eobard didn't walk in the shelter though, he walked in the open, water soaking into his clothes. He wasn't really aware of where he was going or what he was doing. He just walked, alone and apart, as always.

He remembered the first day he met Barry Allen.

It had been warm, sunlight shimmering through tall windows, the soothing aroma of coffee filling the air. The handsome man had smiled at him, and that smile had erased the rest of existence, seemed to be the only thing important to ever be. Bright. Gaudy maybe, he reflected. Too much- showy. Innocent arrogance. And the burning friction that Eobard had felt when matching it had been extremely addicting, a rush of dopamine and adrenaline lighting up his brain with hope, want, _need._

Everything after that moment was a blur, but not a quick one. It was a world - an entire universe - passing by in a muggy summer day, a desperate fever dream as Eobard filled the void that had been within him from before that moment. And Barry filled it, filled every part of his soul with himself, and things had become so clear. They had been perfect for each other.

Now, it seemed, too much so.

Eobard turned around. A puddle splashed under foot, and he knew where he was going. It wasn't where he should go, but it wasn't a choice. He was going back home, when he should be going to the police. This couldn't be right, and he had to know, what twisted answer would explain it all, what jagged edge could justify all that he knew.

Because if his Barry truly was the Reverse...

Then how had Barry been such a wonderful addition to his life?

* * *

The fresh, mouth-watering scent flooded Eobard's nose.

He felt sick.

"I made coffee!" Said a cheerful voice.

Eobard didn't have a plan, a thought in his head to fall back on. He autonomously walked into the kitchen.

"Good grief, why didn't you use the walkways?" Barry asked, looking his soaked form up in down. "Maybe you should get a warm shower." He went over to the coffee pot and poured a cup. He thrusted it eagerly at Eobard. "In the meantime, here's some coffee."

Eobard took the drink, sipped it, met the raised-eyebrows-look with uncertainty.

_How can he be...? Look at him... This has to be a misunderstanding or a mistake... Maybe he isn't him... Maybe he's being forced to do stuff for the actual Reverse Flash because of me, if the Reverse Flash found out that we're together, such as holding onto a torn suit for him... However, that explanation doesn’t fit the wound he has, but... There's no way this man is that monster, that psychopath..._

" _Alright_ ," Barry said, a hint of frustration entering his voice, "that's enough moody silence. Tell me what's going on? You've been weird ever since I got home today. You even took a walk in a downpour without-"

Eobard felt it click, how to find out for sure whether Barry was the madman he'd been fighting for months or not. "I have a secret."

Confusion furrowed Barry's brow. "Do you?"

"Yes. I think I should have shared it long before now... I'm sorry that I didn't, but I was worried you'd think less of me, that you would think I didn't....I didn't trust you."

"Eo, I could never think less of you," Barry replied earnestly

Eobard sat his coffee down on the table, rubbing his brow. He retreated a few steps to the other side of the room. He turned to the bemused Barry.

"I am the Flash."

The entire room slowed down a adrenaline flooded Eobard. He watched the array of emotions that crossed Barry's face in this particular quick perception of time. He observed the few minute split seconds it took for comprehension to be made in Barry's brain, the moments the information was processed, then, then- The emotional response: pain, such pain, bitter cold agony and broken hatred, the kind that resonated in the Reverse Flash's voice, sickness and disease.

It really _was_ him.

Eobard wanted to throw up again.

Eobard saw the denial that came next as Barry's brain further processed, trying to reroute the conclusions it drew to determine if this was a trick, a joke, a lie, anything better than _the truth._

Then it was all gone. Barry's face became perfectly neutral and Eobard came out of Speed Force time.

Barry took a step forward, arms folded. He cocked his head and looked directly into Eobard's eyes with uncanny confidence. He smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. " _Are_ you now?" his voice was almost sly, and something lacked. It was the voice of a man covering his emotions - the voice of a liar.

Eobard could read every one of Barry's emotions like an open book.

"Yes."

Barry laughed. "Wow, all this time, I've been dating the _Flash!_ How did I not see it? You've gotta tell me all about it. Rescued any kittens lately? Signed autographs? Saved some damsels in distress?"

"This isn't a joke," Eobard said, unmoved. He pointed. "At least, no more than that scar on your chest."

Barry glanced down at his shirt. "What are you talking about? What about it?"

"You're the Reverse Flash. I know it because _I_ gave you that scar. It's healing though. Slowly, but surely. Speed Force wounds don't go away overnight, though..."

Barry stilled, and slowly, his gaze tilted back up. His eyes had narrowed into slits.

Eobard raised a hand, vibrated it, demonstrating his power as golden lightning flickered off his fingertips.

Barry jerked away, reeling.

Eobard couldn't help feeling some vindictive pleasure the other was just as obviously effected by the revelation of his lover's secret.

"Oooh, _god damn it all_!" Barry snarled, punching the wall. Eobard had never heard or seen his Barry sound so _angry_. "Fuck me. I didn't hide the suit well enough I assume. I know because I was going to move it after I fixed it, and I forgot! Fuck!" He took a deep breath and spun toward Eobard. "If it's any consolation, I had no idea you were the Flash, either. This is one hell of a sick joke played by the universe. What are the fucking odds?!" He laughed derisively.

Eobard watched him, tense, unsure of what to do. He should have gone straight to the police with this. At the very least, he should have tricked Barry into a pair of speed dampening cuffs, then dragged him off to the station. But even now, the thought of doing so was impossible to comprehend.

Barry went silent, seeming to brood.

"How can you be a _killer_?" Eobard asked in a ragged voice.

Barry shrugged. "How can you be a _hero_?” He shot back. He sighed. “When you've lived as long as I have, seen as much as I have, individual lives tend to lose their value. It doesn't matter if someone lives to see old age or not."

Eobard's stomach churned. His sweet angel of a man, Barry Allen, talking about human life like it was disposable was abhorrent to witness. How could this be him? Eobard had never seen a _hint_ of this side before, this madman, this villain-

Maybe, he hoped desperately, this was all a terrible nightmare.

For awhile, nothing was said. Eobard had the distinct feeling that neither of them knew what to do with this newfound information about one another.

"I can't believe how close I've come to...killing you..." Barry breathed, voice a bit cracked. "I can't believe that you are him though, I-"

"Yeah. Imagine how _I_ feel," Eobard said dryly. "Or, you know, _try_."

"You think I'm a monster now," Barry guessed, looking at the ceiling. "You think our entire relationship is a lie, that I was using you and didn't actually love you. You think I've lied to you about everything." He sighed. "Well, you're wrong. You're the only person I've cared about - truly loved - in such a long time."

"I don't know what to think or feel," Eobard admitted brokenly.

Barry looked at him, expression unreadable. He stepped toward him.

Eobard retreated again. His back hit the wall. He could phase, but...

Barry frowned, expression pained. "I'm not going to hurt you, Eo..."

"But you hate the Flash- you hurt _him_ , and he is me."

"Right now...I couldn't even if I wanted to..."

Eobard knew he was a fool, but he was soothed into stillness by that voice, those words.

Barry embraced him like he always did. He always did love hugging him. "Then again," he said. "I suppose you are right. You're also the only one I've truly hated in a long time...so I suppose it makes sense you should be the only one I love. Why I felt drawn to you..."

Eobard still couldn't reconcile this man with the monster that ran rampant on Central's streets.

He began to cry. Suddenly. He burrowed his face into Barry's shoulder, no longer caring. The thought that Barry might kill him now didn't seem so bad. He wasn't a suicidal person, but imagining facing what came next made every ounce of him fill with dread and misery. The future, once shining and bright, now seemed so bleak. Barry held him while he sobbed weakly.

Nothing would be okay after today.

* * *

Eobard awoke in bed, thoughts blurry, feeling a strong arm curled around him and soft breathing against his ear.

Barry.

He hadn't forgotten anything.

He pulled himself from the man's arms, ignoring the incredible void in his chest. The void that had been in him before he had met Barry was back, only several times worse. He navigated the dark room, dressing. He threw a few things in a bag, and glanced back at the sleeping form of the other man. Like this, he could cuff him easily, drag him to the police. But he wouldn't. It occurred to him that Barry had probably felt similarly, as Eobard dozed off, spent from crying so hard and long, that it would be so easy for him to kill his vulnerable nemesis. But he hadn't. Eobard was still alive, in spite of his foolish trust.

Eobard told himself that this was simply returning that favor. They'd be even after tonight.

But he wasn't an idiot. One day, he'd have to do that to Barry, lock him away forever, and it ached deep and harsh to know that. Or, alternatively, Barry would finally kill him and be free to do whatever he pleased.

There was no happy ending.

He set the bag by the door and took his seat on the bed, next to Barry. He grabbed the slender fingers. "I love you...so much," he murmured.

Barry's eyes fluttered open. "I love you too, baby..."

Eobard had been going to say goodbye, but now he knew he couldn't. "I wish I hadn't met you that day, in the café," he admitted.

Barry gave a broken half-laugh.

It was followed with silence.

Eobard dropped the hand, stood, and walked to the door.

"You don't have to leave, Eo... We can find...some kind of truce...maybe... "

Eobard froze, swallowing. He swore there was a pleading note in that voice. A large part of him wanted to believe the words, that there really was a solution to this, but the rest of him knew that was just dumb, pointless hope.

He turned to face Barry. "I don't think either of us can give up who we are for each other. I know I can't. Can you?"

“Why do you have to be the Flash?"

“Because it’s good. And what are you _doing_? Killing people and causing pain! How can you do _that_?”

Barry sat up, eyes scary to behold in the darkness. “I do it because it’s _fun_ ,” he hissed. “It’s _therapeutic_ practically. I don’t expect you to understand. You’ve never walked a step in my shoes, and you never will.”

Nothing would ever fix this.

Eobard started to move again, to leave, but the cold voice stopped him once more. “It’s occurred to me, that I have killed you… If you walk out that door, you will die one day. It happened in the past. I killed the Flash. It had to be you. Your death is already written...but if you give the Flash up, it doesn’t have to be. You can change your fate...”

“I won’t.” Eobard felt a chill run down to his core. “You are a disgusting killer, and I will never condone what you do.”

He stomped through the doorway, and he didn't look back.


End file.
